Chapter 42 The Pain and Pleasure
Every breath, every heartbeat, and the pressing weight of his body completely overwhelmed Ashley.
She pushed against him with all her might, but his arms were immovable, encasing her with a fortress-like grip, "You wouldn't be thinking of kissing me now, would you? All the while claiming you despise me. Don't tell me men like you can separate their hearts from their bodies; I don't buy that you can go through with it if you truly despise someone."
Damian held her captive with an undeniable superiority. The chandelier lights reflected in her resilient, self-assured eyes. "Come with me."
She was no match for him. Dwarfed by his towering physique and his immense strength, she felt like a fledgling, powerless in his grasp, half-dragged into the Emperor's Room.
No matter how she clung to the door-frame, unwilling to go in, he tossed her effortlessly onto the couch.
With a loud thud, Ashley felt her back pain splinter.
Sitting on the sofa, idly scrolling his phone, Christian Brin paused at the commotion, then quickly flashed a grin, "Oh, what an eventful evening."
"Out."
The cold and authoritative voice came from Damian.
Christian shot an impressed gesture in Ashley's direction, a silent "badass", in a spot Damian couldn't see.
Ashley was at a loss for words, unable to clear her name. Christian must have thought she was luring Damian again, trying to entangle herself with him.
Walking past Damian, Christian gave him a meaningful pat on the shoulder.
The door swung open, then shut.
The expansive VIP room, infuriatingly luxurious, was quickly filled with Damian's brooding presence.
He glanced at Ashley who had tumbled onto the couch and hadn't gotten up right away. Damian took a seat on an armchair a good distance from her, casually crossed his leg, and lit a cigarette.
The chandelier was off, and the dim ambiance lighting cast a hazy glow of warm oranges and mystical purples that intermingled with the nocturne of Chopin, making the night outside even more opulent.
"What are you doing?" Ashley snapped.
Damian took a deep drag of his cigarette, ashing a third of it methodically, "Can't you hear for yourself?"
Sharp and cold, his tone was classically Damian.
Perhaps Ashley was too consumed by anger to notice anything else. It was not until Damian pointed it out that she faintly heard sounds coming from the inner suite.
A woman.
Voices of pleasure, pleas, shy whispers, desire, and the intimate, moist sounds of ecstasy.
Even those inexperienced could decipher the intimate secrets of men and women from these intoxicated echoes.
Christian Brin had left the room, which meant inside...
Before Ashley could ask, a voice came through the door, "Quite the skill you have there."
Hayden.
The inner suites had a different setup, and it seemed like a perverse design choice to neglect soundproofing. The thin door acted merely as a veil; aside from obscuring sight, it offered near impeccable sound transmission.
The girl's voice shivered, begging him to slow down several times.
Hayden, coaxing and seductive, all his sweet nothings found their way to Ashley's ears.
"Trust yourself to me, that's right, you're doing great, baby."
"Turn over, kneel down."
A string of commands left little to Ashley's imagination.
Even with her disciplined mind, she couldn't help but cringe at the vulgarity.
Unmoved, Damian's voice was deep, "Still think it's just a man's problem?"
Was he making her witness this to prove his point?
Was Damian sick in the head? Last time, he called her to his office for a 'show', and now this again.
Ashley glared at him. If gazes could kill, Damian would be a corpse, "If men didn't cast nets, how could women get caught? You all have deep pockets, how could any ordinary girl resist your sugar-coated bullets?"
She felt a pang of sorrow for the girl inside.
Maybe after this 'fierce battle', she would get what she wanted, but what about afterward? Could she guarantee she wouldn't regret it or feel disgusted? Climbing the ladder with a man's help, could she ever spend that money with peace of mind?
A high-pitched scream nearly broke through the silence, emanating from the girl.
Ashley felt a flare of frustration so intense she wanted to slam the door and storm off.
"Listen," Damian said, "it's all about give and take in a deal. If she can put another bargaining chip on the table, there's no need for her to sell herself out."
Ashley longed to lash out, to hurl words that would seal his mouth shut, yet she found herself unexpectedly short of a retort.
Indeed, any deal or cooperation demands equality. If you aim for something far beyond your reach, do you have the leverage to balance the scales? If not, you might as well put yourself on the line.
With a faint semblance of a smile, she shook her head and said, "So, Damian, you're the living example, right? Are you merely reminding me not to deceive myself? You can be sure I don't have any illusions about you.
Damian paused for a moment, flicking the ashes of his cigarette before they drifted away. "Are you sure?"
"I'm certain," Ashley asserted, "Will receive the money within the next few days. Our business will be concluded, and you..."
"Aaah!"
Another cry of pain, tinged with pleasure, cut through the air.
Ashley's words halted, caught awkwardly in her throat.
Damian pretended not to hear, savoring his drink with the poise of someone used to calling the shots. "Given that your father's a debtor, all his assets are frozen. That burnt house, was he the owner?"
Ashley's fingers tensed on the leather, her back prickling with wariness and defiance, "Don't push me too far!"
He exhaled a cloud of smoke leisurely, "You really shouldn't pick a fight with me if you're that faint-hearted."
"That property isn't in his name; it's my personal asset. Even if you went snooping around, you'd find nothing linking it to me."
"Is that so?" Damian questioned, his voice tinged with a hint of threat, "Wasn't it your father's account that covered the initial purchase? It might have been a while, but such traces can still be unearthed. Just imagine what might happen if I were to drop a hint to the right people."
The house had been a last-minute purchase by her father, sensing that things were spiraling out of control. To avoid attracting attention, he'd only paid half upfront, and both the homeowner and the borrower on record were Ashley; a safety net he'd prepared for her.
Somehow, Damian had dug that up too.
Ashley was acutely aware of her vulnerability, like a lamb to the slaughter.
She composed herself for a second, "Well, here's a theory for you: Maybe our divorce was just a strategic sidestep. Worried that Astor Group's debts might entangle KM and the Hearst family, you staged a fake divorce. The reality could be that I'm still Mrs. Hearst of the Hearst family."
Mimicking Damian's demeanor, she swapped out the motion of pinching a cigarette for flicking a bottle cap, tilted forward with a sly smile, "What do you think the world would say about the Hearst family? Oh, and our little marriage secret isn't public yet, but that's okay. I have a photo of our marriage certificate and a whole bunch of lovey-dovey pictures of us. I'm sure plenty of people are curious about your physique, Damian. I'm strapped for cash, so how about we see which tabloid makes the highest bid?"
Damian was unfazed by her threat, "Sure, let's see who’s brave enough to buy them."
Ashley sat up straight. This idea was a spontaneous one, blurted out in a moment of panic and she didn't really want more people digging into their past, "Don't be so sure the Hearst family have the power to call the shots. You might control the domestic media, but the international media is out of your reach. I don't believe the whole world is afraid of you."
Damian replied slowly, "Managing foreign media is indeed more challenging. Why don't you give it a try?"
